HP Shorts
by ScarletSummer
Summary: This will be a collection of individual Hermione-centric, unconnected scenes I have written. Rated for sex/violence/language.
1. Blood

Written By: Summer Carlisle

Disclaimer: Although I doubt these disclaimers make any difference, it can't hurt. I own only the new plot ideas seen here, not the characters or place names or anything else.

Setting: Varied

Rating: T, maybe M in places

Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama/Humor/Hurt/Comfort/Etc.

Warnings: Language/violence/sexual situations

Note: So this isn't a drabble technically because it's too long, but it just a short, single scene with no background information that I just had to write down. I plan to update this "story" with more of these random scenes simply because they float around in my head, not leaving me alone so I figure this is a good way to get them out there. Most will be HG/DM I am sure.

* * *

"I'm not meeting you like this again, Hermione. It won't work, we have to stop." Hermione grabbed his hands and stared into his eyes. He pulled out of her grasp. "We have to stop," he repeated harshly.

"Draco! Why can't we be together? It'll be fine, we can work it out because we love eachoth-"

"Don't!" he yelled, loud enough that she took several steps back from him. "I _don't_ love you." Before she could even think of a reply, his body slammed against hers, knocking them both to the floor. Her head hit the stone painfully as he pinned her arms above her head, staring down at her and breathing heavily. His lips crashed onto hers and she struggled to catch her breath. The kiss bruised her lips and made her feel as if she was suffocating, but she didn't push him away. Hermione bit down on his lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood a moment later. This didn't stop either of them.

Distracted, his grip on her wrists loosened and she quickly moved her hands up under his shirt, digging her nails into his back. Grinding his hips into hers, he finally tore away from the greedy, desperate kiss. His lips brushed across her cheek to her ear.

"I hate you," he whispered in the gentlest, most loving voice she had ever heard him use. She flipped him over so she was straddling him, bringing her lips colliding against his once more. He shoved her skirt up out of the way and grabbed the waistband of her underwear to rip them off. Her skin burned as the fabric dug into her hips until they tore free and he tossed them aside. His fingertips dug into her already stinging hips while she unfastened his trousers.

She dragged her nails down his chest as he pushed into her, knowing they were both drawing blood.


	2. Pity

A/N: This is a continuation of the last one, but don't expect continuity in all of these.

* * *

Hermione glared at Draco, feeling for the second time this week that she actually, truly, passionately hated him. _Passion_, she thought, _that's what started this_. Passion didn't know the difference between love and hate. It was just a raw, thoughtless emotion that made you want to throttle the other person and pin them against the wall by their throat. Passion had no way to know whether you were intent on cold, ruthless murder or on destructive, rough sex.

This, Hermione reasoned, was precisely why the night before she'd found herself on the floor in the nude with him in a tangled mess of bleeding lips and bruised cheeks, grabbing, scratching, biting, pushing, wanting to hurt and satisfy at the same time. Passion started this, so there was nothing for it but to end the passion, even if it did mean hating him just a bit less.

He walked toward her and leaned in to her neck, biting down in a way they both knew would leave a mark. She shoved him away. It was sad really, the way he'd come back to her not twenty four hours after swearing he never wanted to see her mudblood face ever again. Despite the aggression in his actions, she knew he wanted her to reciprocate, not just sit back and allow him to hurt her. It occurred to Hermione then that perhaps it was mere desperation for intimate contact that brought him back to her, and she grasped mentally onto the slight surge of pity that thought generated. That was all she needed to hate him less, to turn the violent passion she had for him into pitying dislike. Feeling genuinely sorry for a boy she knew to be desperate, scared and alone, she turned and walked away.


	3. Hangover

A/N: Lookie! A proper 100-word drabble!

* * *

When Hermione woke up well past noon the following day, she wanted nothing more than to lie down and die. Never, ever, again would she allow Ginny convince her to stay up the entire night drinking fire whiskey, no matter how furious she was with a certain pointy-faced Slytherin. The pounding headache, dry tongue, burning throat, and dizzying nausea were in no way worth the few hours of blissful oblivion she'd had the night before. She should have been more careful.

It was Draco bloody Malfoy's fault though, and she sure as hell was going to let him know that.


	4. Thestrals

"It's a bit weird, isn't it?" Ron asked in an undertone. "That we can all see them now."

Harry and Hermione glanced out the carriage's small window to watch a thestral pulling another cart past theirs. Coming back for their seventh year after the final battle was harder than they'd though it would be. Half the castle was still destroyed; the teachers were having a hard time fixing such extensive curse damage.

"I wish things hadn't had to turn out this way," Hermione sighed. Ron and Harry both reached for her hands, and the rest of the ride was silent.


	5. Lost

Hogwarts Castle was far larger than she had ever dared to imagine. According to _Hogwarts, A History_, the castle held one hundred and forty-two staircases. Even this statistic, however, had not prepared her for the extreme scale grandeur of the place.

Having done all her reading however, she had been confident that she had the whole school figured out.

Perhaps she should have accepted that map from McGonagall, after all.

And now, thanks to her unfounded confidence, she was completely and hopelessly lost.

It had taken her just over an hour, but Hermione Granger had finally found it.

The library.


	6. Patrol

He'd kissed her.

He'd _actually_ kissed her.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" she hissed, wishing she could yell at him. It was well past midnight; they'd been patrolling the corridors for hours now.

"I'm sure even _you_ know what that was, mudblood."

"Oh so you think you can just toss me about, do you? Kiss me and then insult me all in sixty seconds?" Hermione was furious. Actually, she was beyond furious. How _dare_ he! He had no right, crossing her physical boundaries like that! He was taking advantage of her when she had her back turned!

"Like you really mind," he scoffed, flashing that Malfoy smirk.

"I mind very much, thank you!"

"See? You're even thanking me for it," he said, starting to walk again.

"Will you just shut up for once, ferret?"

"Why? Because you enjoyed kissing me?"

"Kissing you? I didn't kiss you! You kissed me and I struggled to get away from your slimy mouth!" she said as loudly as she dared, walking quickly to catch up with him.

"If standing still is what you consider struggling then I—" But before he could finish, Hermione had grabbed him by the front of his robes and pressed her lips against his. She kissed him much more gently than he had kissed her, but also much more heatedly.

"If you ever, _ever_, mention _any_ of this again, I will personally slaughter you," she growled against his lips as they stopped for air. Then in a blink of an eye, she had stormed off around the next corner, leaving him to catch up.


	7. Library

"You'd bloody well better be joking."

She stared down at her hands, fiddling with the quill she'd been holding when he stormed in, knowing her silence was confirmation enough.

"Malfoy? You can't be serious, Hermione! For the love of Merlin, this seriously isn't funn-"

"I'm not trying to be funny, Ron. I'm sorry." Hermione risked a glance up at his face, and instantly wished she hadn't. It seemed he had finally accepted what she said as truth, and he looked more hurt, more shocked, more broken than if she'd just told him she'd decided to join Voldemort. He fell into the chair next to hers, making a loud thudding noise she was sure would attract the attention of Madam Pince. Ron's voice was now barely a whisper.

"But…but Hermione! It was supposed to be you and me, I thought you… I thought we…"

"I thought that too, Ron. But you ignored me. You dated Lavender instead. It's like you always looked straight through me."

"I was just scared, Hermione! I didn't think you wanted me, you always acted like I annoyed you, like you just put up with me for Harry's sake. I didn't want you to think I was any more of a fool than you already do, so I didn't try anything. Then Ginny said you'd kissed Krum, and Lavender seemed to fancy me, so I just went for it. It was always you, though, Hermione. Always you." His eyes were swimming, Hermione couldn't bear to look at him.

"I never thought you were a fool, and you don't annoy me. But you had your chance Ron, all those years I waited for you, hoping you would show some sign that you felt the same way. And you did nothing! Draco, he did something! He _proved_ to me that he wanted to be with me, he _showed_ me that I mattered!"

Ron suddenly jumped up from his chair, pulling Hermione up with him. In an instant, one of his hands tangled in her hair, the other held her waist, pulling her forcefully to press against him. She knew, in the moment before he kissed her, she knew what he was going to do. And she let him. As Ron's lips met hers, and his tongue swirled around her own, she forgot that she was seeing Draco. She forgot about everything but him, feeling like a giddy little girl whose life-long crush finally noticed her. Then there was a loud screech from somewhere behind them, and reality came crashing unceremoniously back into focus.

Madam Pince was glaring at them so fiercely from across the table, Hermione was surprised that stunning spells weren't shooting from her pupils. Before the librarian could begin her outraged rant, Hermione turned back to Ron. He was breathing heavily, the trademark Weasley flush spreading rapidly underneath his freckles. It was so endearingly familiar, she almost couldn't speak.

"Ron, I am so sorry," she said, and with one more slow, apologetic kiss upon his lips, she left.


	8. HG

There was a loud tapping at the window of Hermione Granger's bedroom, followed by a shriek and a splash from behind a door that stood half open across the room. Hermione dashed to the window, her dripping hair sending water droplets flying around the room as she pulled on her pale yellow dressing gown. Her still-soapy fingers slipped and stumbled as she unlatched the window. _Please be from Hogwarts, please be from Hogwarts. _The bird flew in, landing on her desk and flapping its wings impatiently as she haphazardly dried her hands on her dressing gown. Hermione untied the letter from the owl's leg, hardly even noticing the owl's wing clip the side of her head in its haste to depart. As she sat down on the edge of her bed, Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. _Should I wait and open it with mum and dad? They won't be back for hours. But this could be big, really big! Stop it, don't convince yourself it will be in there, you don't know for sure..._

She opened her eyes again and stared down at the envelope in her hand. The ink on the outside of the envelope was still green, but it was no longer written in long, looping letters like it had been the first six times she had received Hogwarts letters. It seemed like a silly thing, now, to be so anxious over this letter. After the war, after everything. Harry and Ron weren't even going back to Hogwarts, not that she had ever really expected either of them to. Merlin knows Ron would never choose to take an extra year of classes and Harry...well she didn't know if Harry would ever be able to visit the school again. Hermione, however was determined to go back. She refused to allow her last memories of the place to be riddled with flames and death and dark wizards. No, she wanted it to be just Hogwarts again. A place full of books and professors and new ideas. Ginny would be there, at least, and Neville too was returning even though he technically already had his seventh year.

Carefully, she broke the wax seal and opened the letter. Although she had begun to set the first page aside without reading it, knowing it would be the same generic beginning-of-the-school-year letter they had always sent out, a post script at the bottom caught her eye before she went on to the next sheet of parchment.

_P.S. As we have been contacted by many concerned parents, please note that while most of the castle has been fully restored, certain portions of the structure remain irreparable. Please rest assured that students are completely blocked from entering these areas, therefore they pose no danger to your children. -M. McGonagall, Head Mistress_

Hermione reckoned she knew at least one area of the castle deemed irreparable. There was no way to fix something damaged by magic as dark as fiend fyre. With a heaviness returned to her chest, she flipped by the book list and found what she had been waiting for. The last sheet in the envelope had affixed to it a small, shining badge emblazoned with the letters H.G. Hermione Granger, Head Girl.


End file.
